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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039351">love's not a thing you get to choose (try to resist and you'll always lose)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_writes/pseuds/annabeth_writes'>annabeth_writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Joffrey is still a little shit, Mild Language, Not Canon Compliant, Past Abuse, Sansa is a Lannister and not by marriage, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, all the tension, and Cersei isn’t as smart as she thinks she is, and everyone underestimated Sansa, spoiler alert: Jon won’t, with all the resolution of that tension</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:15:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,822</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_writes/pseuds/annabeth_writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Born into House Lannister with the coloring of her Tully kin, Sansa is an outcast from the start. With no living parents, she is shuffled from castle to castle in her childhood until she is installed in Queen Cersei’s household in the Red Keep. As war breaks out in the aftermath of Ned Stark’s execution, Sansa is caught in the middle of the conflict and finds her way to the part of her family that she never knew before. As she comes to know her mother’s family and draws closer to the enigmatic bastard of her deceased uncle, Sansa discovers that she is a bigger part of the great game than she ever imagined.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jon Snow/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>189</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>love's not a thing you get to choose (try to resist and you'll always lose)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fic title: Battle Cry by Beth Crowley</p><p>I know that I promised an update to we are buried in broken dreams and that IS coming but this has been sitting in my drafts for ages so I decided to go ahead and post it.</p><p>Sansa is the daughter of Lysa and Tygett Lannister. She does/did have a twin brother - Tyrek Lannister who disappeared during the King’s Landing riot in canon. She is around 17 in this fic, because I can basically. So everyone else’s age adjusts accordingly. Some canon events will still exist but timing may be adjudged for the sake of the story. For example: Barristan isn’t dismissed until after the KL riot.</p><p>Jon never went to the Wall. The WW aren’t a thing in this fic because, as usual, I just don’t have time for that. The Red Wedding will also not be a thing in this fic. Not because I don’t have time for it but because I just don’t want it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For as long as she can remember, Sansa Lannister has been told the same thing again and again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do not make a nuisance of yourself.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She did not know why everyone saw fit to remind her. Perhaps it was simply the orphan’s lot, to mind herself in the presence of others to the degree of absolute silence, even as a child. Unlike her brother, she learned from a young age to control her temper, reigning in the hot boil of emotions that would rise in her chest when someone angered or frustrated her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She learned her courtesies well, eager to please whoever took responsibility for her at that particular time. It mattered little. They hardly took notice of her or at least they did, in the before. This was the after. It was that particular instruction that she clung to as she stood amidst the court of the Red Keep, repeating it again and again in her mind like a mantra, knowing that it was the only thing that may keep her alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do not make a nuisance of yourself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nevermind that she felt so hot with rage and anguish that she could have screamed to the rafters of the Great Hall when her bold, impassioned brother had disappeared from her life in the blink of an eye. Nevermind that her hands trembled fiercely and unshed tears swam in her distinctly un-Lannister eyes, making them shine all the brighter. Nevermind that she could have very well throttled the worm-lipped bastard that sat upon the Iron Throne until his cruel, glittering eyes bulged from his head and his skin turned a nasty shade of purple. She held her ground, her chin tilted upwards and her shaking hands hidden in the folds of her skirts, refusing to let anyone see her break.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa almost didn’t notice as Ser Barristan Selmy was summoned forward by her smirking cousin. A queen that she once thought to be the most beautiful, graceful women in all of the Seven Kingdoms. A woman that marred such beauty in Sansa’s eyes, for the cruelty that rotted her very soul. Cersei looked almost delighted as she spoke her callous words, reducing a legendary warrior to little more than a burden. A failure. A man past his prime. A knight forced to break the oaths he made so long ago. Laughter rose up all around as he stalked from the room with Petyr Baelish’s jape still lingering in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do not make a nuisance of yourself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Joffrey’s eyes drifted to her as if inescapably drawn to her now that she stood far weaker than before. She could tell that he delighted in her wounds. A deep cut upon her cheek, surrounded by a mottled bruise, and another splitting her lip. Of all that he was known for, self-control was not his strong suit. Yet he had managed to keep her face unmarked thus far. Somehow, she knew by the vicious gleam in his eye that he would no longer temper himself in that regard. She also knew that if not for the presence of his mother, he would gladly have her trotted out before these denizens of court for his own entertainment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cersei turned a blind eye to her son’s proclivities, even when it came to her own cousin, but Sansa knew she would put an end to it if she saw it happening before her very eyes. Not out of concern, but out of duty. After all, Sansa may not have the looks of a Lannister but she still had the blood of one. That was the core of her misfortune. Her blood. Because while she was kin to the ruling family of Westeros, she was also kin to the very family that rebelled against them even now. And since Joffrey could not take out his anger on anyone with the surname of Stark, he chose his next best option.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The daughter of Lysa Lannister, formerly of House Tully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niece to Catelyn Stark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cousin to the Young Wolf, who had thus far managed to win every battle that he fought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joffrey had a great many frustrations to take out upon her.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>*</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am afraid that we must move quickly, my lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In spite of Tyrion’s words, Sansa found herself blinking slowly with sleep still lingering at the edges of her mind. She was trying very hard to account for her cousin’s presence in her chambers, and for the dark-haired beauty that was lacing her into a riding habit in the middle of the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand,” Sansa admitted, her hands feeling quite heavy as she plaited her hair into a braid. “Where am I going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Far from here,” Tyrion said, looking quite impatient where he stood at the door to her bedchamber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not answer as the strange woman shoved Sansa’s boots into her arms, waiting for her to slip them on before all but tossing a heavy grey cloak at her. As soon as it was clasped about her shoulders and the hood covered her distinctive hair, Tyrion ushered them out with a quiet command to say nothing at all. Sansa was used to such order, and found it far from difficult to keep her thoughts to herself. The keep was all but silent as they crept through corridors and secret doors that Sansa did not know existed. Only as they wound their way along the serpentine steps did she dare to speak in a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has something happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tyrion paused upon the steps, his face too shadowed by darkness for her to see the expression upon it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your situation is quite changed, dear cousin,” he said in a heavy voice. “Your protection has thinned out considerably and I regret that with the threat of Stannis Baratheon and Robb Stark looming over us, I will be unable to protect you. My nephew will undoubtedly seek to amuse himself in ways that I’m certain you can imagine, especially if our house continues to lose this war.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa did not move, feeling quite rooted to the spot as she considered his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My brother,” she finally said, the words like bitter poison on her tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even now, she could see his bright smile in her mind. Her nails dug into her palm at the fading memory of his hand clasped in hers, dragging her along to whatever adventure he’d crafted for them. She could remember the pride she felt as he knelt before their cousin, Jaime’s sword resting upon Tyrek’s shoulder as their armor gleamed in the ethereal light of Baelor’s sept. The swelling love she had for him as he tried to stand between her and Joffrey’s fury. The overwhelming indignation that she felt, as the only Lannister that truly seemed to care that he was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think my situation is more precarious now that my brother is dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Missing</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Tyrion corrected her, turning his head towards her slightly. “He is missing, Sansa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She choked back a humorless laugh, that same furious heat simmering beneath her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If he were truly missing,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought to herself in a hiss. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You would all be looking for him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sansa pressed her lips together in a firm line, turning her face away from him once they continued along their path to the stables. As they drew nearer to a cloaked figure that stood with two horses, the clouds shifted above them and moonlight gleamed upon the white hair of a familiar man. He no longer wore the cloak of the Kingsguard, but she could name him all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have my thanks for this, ser,” Tyrion said once they were close enough to whisper to one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not do this for you,” Barristan Selmy said, his eyes fixed firmly upon Sansa. “I owe a debt to a woman that I can never pay, but perhaps she may smile down upon from the heavens for my actions here and now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Far too confused to speak a word, Sansa allowed him to help her onto the smaller of the two horses before looking down at her cousin with wide eyes, wondering why he would risk the wrath of their king and his mother to help her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will deliver her safely to Casterly Rock,” Tyrion said, his eyes fixed upon the knight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pang of fear rose up in Sansa’s chest and she wondered if this man was truly foolish enough to think that she’d be any safer under the thumb of her uncle than she was in King’s Landing, trading one gilded cage for another like the little bird that she was in their eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will see to her safety, Lannister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ser Barristan said nothing more, turning to guide his horse away from the keep. To her utter shock, Sansa found that every gate opened and every guard let them pass as she followed him. Forcing herself to trust in the sword that he kept at his side, as well as the honor that guided him, Sansa all but held her breath as they made their way through the city and found that she could only breathe easy when it was a distant shadow at their backs. Tears burned at her eyes and traced glistening paths along her cheeks as she let herself dwell upon Tyrek once more. Pulling up on her reins and ignoring Ser Barristan’s call of her name, Sansa turned back to face the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My brother should be here with us,” she said, her voice unbreaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He should, my lady,” the knight agreed, though there was an undercurrent of impatience in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa felt a swell of anger within her and breathed in deeply, her hands tightening up the reins that she held. In that moment, she vowed to herself that she would see justice for her brother’s blood. For the scars upon her skin. For the fear and loss that was carved deep within her into her very bones. She would have her satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, a Lannister always paid their debts.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>*</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun was just past its peak when her suspicions were proven true. They should have seen Blackwater Rush long before now if they were aiming for Casterly Rock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is not the Gold Road,” Sansa said, her horse trotting easily alongside Ser Barristan’s steed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, my lady, it is not,” he said honestly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa had not traveled far from King’s Landing since she was installed in Cersei’s household as a lady-in-waiting, but she remembered a single venture to Harrenhal. It must have been five or six years ago, but her memory was quite good and she could trace the path of the sun as well as anyone else. They should have been following its arc through the sky, yet it was dipping further and further down to her left. They were riding north.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ser Barristan, if I may, where are you taking me?” she asked warily, her voice edged with fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kind eyes met her own as she tilted her head towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Riverrun, Lady Sansa,” he said, making her heart swell with something like hope. “I am taking you to your mother’s home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>*</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Lady Lysa Lannister, born of House Tully, died soon after Tyrek and Sansa came screaming into the world. Therefore, Sansa had little knowledge of her mother. From what she did know, her beauty was no great thing. A truth only remarked upon for the surprise most people felt as they looked upon the comely features of her daughter. Once she found herself embedded in the court of King’s Landing, Sansa heard from more than one person that she resembled her aunt more than her mother. The master of coin on the king’s council pointed this particular detail out more than most, but Sansa got an eerie feeling from Petyr Baelish and maintained a polite distance from him over the years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that she stood before Catelyn Stark, Sansa could see that they spoke truly. Beneath the small lines upon her face, earned by her years and childbirth and the recent grief that she had suffered, Sansa could see her own face in Lady Catelyn’s high cheekbones and Tully blue eyes. The other woman’s hair was darker, akin to her own son’s curls, while Sansa’s burned as bright as a flame. Where it marked her as an outsider amidst the golden Lannister lions, she would fit in quite well here amidst her mother’s kin. Still, she kept her hair tucked away beneath her cloak’s hood as Ser Barristan stepped forward to speak, kneeling before the young king that looked far more suited to a crown than Joffrey ever would. She followed her protector’s lead, sinking to her knees slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why should we welcome you to our home, ser, when you so recently shielded the very king that ordered my father’s head struck from his shoulders?” King Robb demanded, his voice deep and unshaken. “Not to mention the hooded creature that cowersin your shadow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa grew pale at the suspicion in his words, hiding her trembling hands in the depths of her cloak as her eyes darted from one person to the next, seeing threats at every turn. Lady Catelyn was the only unarmed person in the room. There were swords all around. Blades sharpened to the finest edge. Weapons that could rain stinging blows upon her. That could cut into her soft, pale skin with ease. She forced herself to remain on her knees, bowing her head in hopes that they would not strike it from her body as soon as they learned her name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would not deny your right to justice, Your Grace, if that is your wish,” Ser Barristan said, speaking with a voice as humble as it was strong. “I can die in peace, knowing that my task is complete and I have delivered an innocent soul to those honorable enough to shield her from further harm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt a lump rise in her throat, every shattered piece of her heart aching to speak out for the knight before her. He had extracted a promise from her on their journey that she would do no such thing, for her safety was paramount over his own life, but Sansa did not think that he deserved to die for keeping to the oaths he swore, even if following the wishes of his king compromised his honor. Before she could decide one way or another, the Stark king’s voice rang out once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rise, my lady, and remove your hood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa swallowed hard, gripping at her skirts as he rose to her feet slowly, feeling all eyes upon her. With shaking hands, she peeled her head book and kept her eyes fixed upon the stone beneath her. She fought the urge to wring her hands nervously, as was a habit of hers, clasping them tightly before her as a heavy, tense silence settled over the hall. Had she looked up, she would have seen the king and his mother share a look of shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I didn’t know any better,” Robb finally spoke in the voice of a man trying to control his surprise. “I would think that you brought me my own sister, Ser Barristan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his words, Sansa finally lifted her head and her wide eyes met her cousin’s in full. Though his coloring favored his mother, Sansa could see traces of Ned Stark in the shape of his chin and his noble bearing. He commanded the room with such little effort where he stood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She is not your sister,” a new voice spoke, drawing all eyes to where she stood. “But she is your kin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa felt quite reluctant to look at Lady Stark, knowing that she may stir up many painful memories. Not only was she a Lannister, but she was all that remained of Catelyn Stark’s own sister. She could tell the moment that the others in the hall realized who she must be. Silence reigned for a brief few moments, the calm before the storm. Then chaos broke out. Lords clamored to be heard, shouting about justice and retribution. In the corner of her eye, Sansa could see Ser Barristan’s hand twitch towards the pommel of his sword. Turning to look his way, she gave a small shake of her head just as the king lifted his hand to silence the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With no shortage of grumbles and heated glares aimed at her and her knight, the lords slowly filtered from the room. Movement to her right caught her attention and she turned to see a figure in dark clothing move towards a door in the shadows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay, Jon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lady Stark looked to her son with narrowed eyes, clearly unhappy with his command. The shadowed figure grew still for just a moment before turning to step into the light, heeding his king’s command. As his dark eyes met hers, she looked away quickly, her cheeks heating with the dismay of having been caught staring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you expect to be welcomed here, my lady?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The color quickly drained from her face as she lifted her eyes to meet the flinty gaze of her kin. Ser Barristan bristled at her side as she pressed her teeth into her lower lip, shaking her head slowly. Robb lifted one eyebrow, his eyes searching her face and likely finding her lacking in some way or another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you no voice of your own?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sans wet her lips carefully, trying to summon the memory of her brother. He had always been so courageous, facing much more daunting situations than this. If he could be brave, so could she. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not expect anything from you, Your Grace,” Sansa said quietly, trying to keep her voice from wavering. “In truth, I had nowhere else to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do not have a place among your Lannister kin?” Robb asked doubtfully, spitting her family name as if it was poison on his tongue. “You have no loyalty to your house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa had prepared herself to be greeted with such suspicion but Ser Barristan, who was witness to many of her trials, did not intend to remain silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I can assure you that House Lannister has done nothing at all to earn Lady Sansa’s loyalty. Had I left her in King’s Landing, it would have meant her death. Have no doubt about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa turned her face with her lips pressed into a thin line, remembering the startling warmth of blood upon her hands. Blood blooming as bright as her hair upon a golden doublet. Shouts all around. A crowd thirsty for the death of their king. Hands grasping at her hair, her dress, her face. Inhaling a shaking breath, Sansa lifted her eyes only to find those dark eyes fixed upon her. He held her in the trap of his gaze, making her feel as if he saw deep into her very soul. It was almost impossible to tear her eyes away, yet she managed to do so all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You were harmed?” Lady Stark questioned, the slightest glimmer of concern in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa had no desire to describe her suffering, for to dwell on it would invite the memories to haunt her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joffrey and Cersei have no love for me,” Sansa declared, wishing to leave it at that. “They never did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can we be certain that you speak truthfully? That you are not a spy sent to report all that you know back to your house?” Robb questioned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa faltered at his questions, knowing that they had every reason to doubt her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will follow your commands,” she said, not realizing that she’d begun wringing her hands anxiously until she saw the king’s eyes flit down to them before rising to her face again. “I will write no letters and speak to none but those whom you permit in my presence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She searched his eyes, trying to take his measure. To see if he was pleased by the words she spoke. Yet he gave away nothing, simply watching her as if he had yet to hear anything to sway him. Dropping her eyes away from him, Sansa searched the floor wildly for the answer, her heart beating quicker in her chest as she tucked her hands in the folds of her gown to hide how they trembled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I will submit myself to a guard of your choice, if that is what it takes,” she said, though she knew what the cost of such an offer may be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For as long as she lived, she would never forget the feel of a sword striking her skin. Sansa felt a rising panic that she would willingly give these people such power over her, but she had to trust in their oft-mentioned honor because she spoke true when she said that she had nowhere else to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All I ask is that you do not send me back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa looked up, blinking away the tears that gathered in her eyes and cursing herself for showing such weakness. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she met the king’s gaze with all the boldness that she could muster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” she breathed out, knowing that it was all that she could say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robb’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, though she could see the tension in his shoulders slowly ebb away as he regarded her for several long, silent moments. Her aunt murmured his name quietly, but he lifted his hand to call for silence once more before giving Sansa the briefest of nods. The tension in her chest relented at once and she felt as if she could breathe again, inhaling deeply and restraining herself from collapsing into relieved sobs right then and there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to Riverrun, cousin,” the king said, taking several steps towards her until they stood mere paces apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand lifted from his side and a small line formed between his brows when she flinched away from him on instinct. Sansa flushed with chagrin, hating how little affect her armor had on these people. Allowing him to take her hand in his own, she took a slow step forward as he tucked her hand into the cradle of his arm and drew her towards the doors of the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Allow me to show you around the castle, my lady,” Robb said, mindless of her wide-eyed gaze fixed upon him. “While we walk, you will tell me all that you know of Tywin Lannister and I will consider who I might entrust with your safety.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Your Grace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa dipped her eyes in obeisance, having suspected that this would be demanded of her. She felt a faint prickle of awareness on the back of her neck and just before Robb led her from the hall, Sansa glanced back over her shoulder only to see that the mysterious and apparently contentious Jon tracked her every step with that searing gaze.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’d love to hear your thoughts!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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